


Lazy Sunday

by QuickLikeLight



Series: Halestead [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Established Relationship, F/F, Halestead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9782441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: Kira loves Sundays.





	

Kira loves Sundays.

They’re always so busy, both of them. She has classes and a part time job with the local photography studio and her own projects besides. Malia works as a bartender downtown four nights a week, and she’s not in school exactly, but she does randomly show up in a lot of art classes anyway. Apparently it’s a large time commitment, being footloose and fancy free.  

Sundays, though, are just for them.

This morning Malia is lounging in a pair of boxers and a sports bra, hair done up in a messy bun on top of her head. She sits in the patch of sunlight that comes through the patio door, curled into her little papasan chair with a steaming mug of coffee and a piece of the zucchini bread that Derek left on their doormat earlier, accompanied by a little note that said, “Compliments of the chef’s sister. Love, Laura.”

“This would be so much better with butter,” Malia grouses, dipping the bread into her coffee.

“Well, most things are,” Kira agrees. She makes a cup for herself, digging in the back of their mostly-bare fridge, hoping to find something that could substitute as creamer. “Does rice milk go bad?”

“Rice milk starts out bad,” Malia shrugs. “I don’t think it has much place to go from there.”

“You know what I meant,” Kira rolls her eyes a little, and Malia giggles.

“I stole some of those non-dairy creamers from the pub last night. They’re in my bag.”

“Oh God, you’re the best,” Kira launches herself toward the bedraggled shopping tote Malia carries her work clothes in and comes up with a handful of assorted flavor creamer cups. “Literally the best. I love you. Wow.”

“I know,” Malia winks and takes another bite of her bread. She makes a face. “It doesn’t even taste like zucchini.”

“It’s not supposed to,” Kira explains. Malia grew up in a sort of hippie commune with her mom, way out in the middle of nowhere. Most things she gets, but some stuff, like baked goods that don’t taste like they sound, are still beyond her. “It’s got zucchini in it, but it isn’t supposed to taste like zucchini. Like carrot cakes don’t taste like carrots?”

“Stupid. I was excited about zucchini bread. I like zucchini.”

“You’re the only person I know who would rather have actual zucchini for breakfast than pastry,” Kira giggles. She sits down between Malia’s knees on the floor, wriggling so the edge of the chair doesn’t dig into her back, and grabs a slice out of the little loaf pan. The bread is good and sweet, a hint of applesauce and cinnamon hitting her tongue before the zest of lemon glaze. “Cora outdid herself this time. This may be the best zucchini bread in existence.”

“Would you like me better if I could cook?” Malia muses, tangling her fingers into Kira’s hair.

“Would you like me better if I could?” Kira tips her head back, reveling in the soft scrape of Malia’s nails.

“No. I like you how you are right now. Don’t ever change a bit, okay?”

Kira laughs and nuzzles up against her hand. “I’ll do my best. I like you how you are too. You can change if you want, though. I’d still like you just as much.”

“How do you do that?” The fingers on her scalp stop, and Kira’s left wanting just a bit.

“Do what?”

“Sound so honest when you’re being such a sap,” Malia laughs. “You make me want to be a sap too. I’d be terrible at it though, so I’m not going to try.”

“Well,” Kira grins, “Now you know I’ll still be into you, even if you become a sloppy, sappy, happy-crier.”

“Happy crying makes no sense!” Malia exclaims, fingers sliding through Kira’s strands again as they rehash the old argument. “Why would you cry if you’re happy? Crying doesn’t feel good!”

Kira loves Sundays.

She may love this Sunday the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com).


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